Crazy eBay People...Or You Can't Fix Stupid

Since I've been down for the count for 64 days, (Yup, I counted.) I've been selling my old stuff on eBay. Totally a "job" I can do from the safety of my couch. While there are lots of nice, normal people out there in eBay land, there are also a few psychopaths. Here are my two favorites so far. 

Let's call the first one "scarf girl." I sold her a brand new scarf with the tags still on it for 99 cents plus shipping. It took her eons to pay, but she finally did and I shipped her the scarf to the address she had on file with eBay. I sent her the tracking information a few days later and that's when things got weird. 

Her: Oh. I didn't want you to ship it to that address. I wanted you to use the my other address. 

Me: Huh. I don't know you. That's why you provide eBay with your address. 

Her: Well, the address in my PayPal account is the right address. You should have gone into my account and noticed that the two addresses are different. 

Me: Why would I go into your PayPal account? eBay takes care of all that. And I don't have your PayPal password. 

Her: Well, can you go into the post office and find the package and get it back?

Me: Clearly you have no concept as to how the US mail system works. 

Her: I'm reporting you to eBay. 

Me: Go ahead. 

Final outcome: eBay refunded her the money in their dime AND she received the scarf. (Thank you tracking information.)

Moral of the story: Sometimes stupid people win. 

The next gem we'll call Jacket Girl. Jacket Girl bought a worn once jacket from me for $30 plus shipping after a pretty heated bidding war. I had posted pictures of the jacket from multiple angles and taken close up shots of the size tags. I clearly stated that I do not accept returns. It took nearly a month, but before long I got an email from Jacket Girl that went like this:

Her: This jacket doesn't fit me at all. It's too narrow in the hips. I want my money back AND I want to keep the jacket. 

Me: I clearly stated the size in the listing. I'm sorry it doesn't fit, but I don't do returns, as I said earlier. And why on earth would you want to keep a jacket that doesn't fit?!

Her: The jacket is too long.

Me: There were multiple pictures of the jacket with the listing so you could see that. If you want, you can ship the jacket back to me and I will refund you the cost of the jacket, but not the shipping. 

Her: (sound of crickets chirping)

Final outcome: I told ebay I was sticking with my no returns policy. They said the seller might give me a bad rating. I said oh well. 

Moral of the story: It sucks when you buy something non refundable and it doesn't fit. Just do what I do-turn around and sell it on eBay. 

So there you have it. Using eBay to sell stuff you have laying around in your closet is a great way to make a little extra money. And there are mostly nice people out there. But be prepared to deal with Internet psychos. Who now have your home address. Awesome. 

Reason 9,998 Why I Am Going to Hell (Or Vodka Makes Everything Better)

Anyone who knows us knows that we do loud REALLY well. My kids have two volumes: loud and louder. I have two volumes: louder and loudest.  Despite this, um, "challenge," we still try to bring our kids to church. Every week. Where I spend a solid 90 minutes attempting to get them to focus, stay quiet, and sit still. When we first moved to Worcester, I was lucky enough to make a church friend whose kids also brought the loud. They were awesome. Spirited. Opinionated. Enthusiastic. All of the traits that I love to hate in my own kids. I love me a kid who isn't afraid to make their voice heard. It's magical. It makes me think that one day they might be brave enough to try to change the world. Because everyone knows that well behaved women rarely make history. 

Anyway, we always sat near this family. Because they were awesome. And because our kids blended together in one joyful, noisy, chaotic mess. It was a beautiful thing. My friend and I often joked that we should start bringing a flask to church, because vodka makes everything better. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and this family that complimented mine so well in those back pews ended up moving far, far away. That's when the best decision ever was hatched. 

Now I've never claimed to be a mature person. (I think anyone who was at that stuff meeting where we played the game  called "Finger Snatch" would attest to this. I giggled like a 13 year old boy through that entire game.) So given my amazing lack of maturity, I thought it would be appropriate to bring a teeny tiny bottle of vodka to church. (We call these nips in Massachusetts. I have since learned that this is a regional thing. You will get some strange looks when you tell out of state people that you "drank nips in church" when they have an entirely different meaning of the word nips. Just sayin'.) Since we had always joked about needing a flask for church, I thought it would be funny if I brought this in my purse and then passed it back to my friend the minute our kids brought the noise. Brilliant and oh so mature, right?!

On the last Sunday before this family moved, I smuggled the little bottle of vodka into church. A going away nip, if you will. It took no more than 3 minutes for one of our littles to turn up the volume. At which point I turned around and handed her this. 

Which of course made us both dissolve into a fit of extreme church giggles. (You know the ones. When you are some place where you shouldn't be hysterically laughing and that just makes you laugh more?! These often strike without warning at very important work meetings and funerals.)

Then we thought it would be an EVEN better idea to bust into the church Kool-Aid supply and share said nip. 

I look evil in this picture. Because clearly I am, as evidenced by my sneaking booze into church. And then downing it shot-style with coffee hour punch. This may or may not have gone down as my best time in church ever. We giggled. We told a few people. We got some SERIOUS disapproving looks. It was awesome. 

I am currently in the market for a new friend to be the naughty girl in the back of the church with me. (Except now the back pews are roped off. Coincidence?!) Who wants in? I'll bring the nips!! 😉

The Midnight Gun Fight

In October, Joe and I briefly woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a scuffle behind our building. Now I've mentioned before that we live behind a lovely neighborhood establishment we'll continue to refer to as the "Ruby Hotel." There are frequent bar fights here, so we generally just ignore the noise, roll over, and go back to sleep. Par for the course. 

Well, on this particular night, my sister and her husband had arrived home from their honeymoon at 1am. They heard the scuffle too, but since they lived on the first floor, they had a better view of the situation. Apparently sometime between midnight and 1am, there had been a little gunfight outside of the Ruby Hotel. My sister's welcome home from your honeymoon surprise was a guy who had just been shot climbing over the fence and into our backyard, moaning. Because you know, he'd just been shot. (At this point they decided it was probably a good idea for them to get off the porch and away from the windows.) Minutes later, the backyard also contained police officers shining flashlights into the windows, and dogs sniffing out perps. Awesome. 

The next day there was an article in the paper about the shooting. It mentioned that the guy who had been shot was chased into a nearby backyard, but wasn't apprehended by the police. So our yard is famous for its role in this crime and one of the bad guys is still on the lam. How's that for a welcome home from your honeymoon party?!

Really Important Things I've Learned this Week

I don't get out often these days, but when I do, I try to really appreciate it and look for the good things that are out there. In the past 7 days or so I've learned a few things, so I thought I'd pass them on to you...

1. The West Boylston Post Office is far superior to the Worcester main post office. Regardless of when you go the the main Worcester office the parking lot is a nightmare. There is always a line of cars waiting to park and then when you finally get inside the giagantic line is being held up by someone trying to mail a chicken to Ghana. Always. This is made more difficult when you hobble in there on crutches with packages to mail packages from your fledgling eBay business. There wasn't a chicken this time, but someone was trying to mail a plastic Stop & Shop bag filled with canned goods to Virginia. Apparently no one in the Woo knows how the U.S. mail system actually works. Today I had packages to mail and a PT appointment in West Boylston. (Or maybe the appointment was in Worcester? It's right on the line.)  I decided to seek out the West Boylston post office. Behold! A post office with no line, smiling people, plenty of parking, and no chickens being mailed out of country. Well worth the drive if you ask me. 

2. Driving an automatic rocks. I have driven a standard since I can remember. Then I broke my ankle. I couldn't drive my car for the foreseeable future and since it was falling part anyway, we decided to sell it for an automatic. I wasn't 100% on Team Automatic until I decided to reward myself today with post PT Starbucks. If you've ever been to the drive thru at the Starbucks where the old Aku Aku used to be, you know that the drive thru is a hill. In my old car, I'd get a cramp in my clutch leg if I had to wait too long and I'd almost always stall just as I got to the window. But today? I drove up happily, grabbed my coffee, and moved on. Happy and caffeinated. 

3. Someone in my building is having the newspaper delivered. What?! I didn't even know the Telegram delivered to the 'hood! Gentrification. It's happening. 

4. Butter pecan iced coffee is back at Dunkin's!! Like many true born and bred New Englanders, I drink iced coffee all year long. (Well, as soon as I realized you could order it in the winter, which I learned about 12 years ago when I accosted a person in January, demanding to know where they got that iced coffee in the winter. Who knew?!) Butter pecan is by far the most superior flavor and it's back! Like the shopping cart, the reappearance of butter pecan coffee heralds the coming of spring. And now that we've next door to a Dunk's I have some seriously easy access. Winning! Speaking of spring, my brother in law spotted this little gem the other day. Spring. It's almost here. 

5. If you have a Clapper attached to the light in your bedroom and your child comes into your room at 2am coughing, the cough WILL make the light turn off and on. And the next night, your husband WILL try to fart in the exact pattern needed to turn the light on. Awesome. 

6. Finally, if we invite you to dinner at our house, don't eat the vegetables. We don't eat them anymore. I just use them to ice my ankle and then refreeze them. Veggie shaped ice packs courtesy of Price Chopper. 

Heidi's Tips for Surviving Life in a Transitional Neighborhood that is Transitioning the Wrong Way

Apparently at one point our neighborhood was filled with families made up of blue collar workers. They lived their entire lives in the same 3 decker-with different family members occupying each apartment. Some of these people are still in my 'hood and I see them once a year when it's time to vote, but now the neighborhood is definitely transitioning-the wrong way. Instead of families who look out for one another, the neighborhood is largely transitional, and people barely know each other. This requires some helpful hints for surviving in a questionable neighborhood. 

1. Get to know your sketchiest neighbors. This step is really important. These are the people you want on your side when shit goes down-and it always goes down in the 'hood. Say hello. Hold the door. You treat them well, they'll treat you well. I have one awesome neighbor who buzzes me in when my hands are full and keeps an eye on my car (her porch faces the parking lot) so no one breaks into it. She's moving soon. I'm sad. 

2. Keep the WPD non-emergency number handy. While 9-1-1 is handy for those big emergencies, (like the knife attack and the tweaker gone wild) 

sometimes you need to call the police because your neighbor's bass is shaking your kid's bed at 2am or because the people in the 3 decker next door started throwing TVs out of the laundry window. The po-po doesn't like it if you use 9-1-1 for these "emergencies," so it's always a good idea to keep the non emergency number on hand so you don't find yourself doing a desperate Google search at 2am. (Been there.) I keep it on my fridge and in my phone. And I use it often. 

3. Know about text a tip. The WPD advertises this service on the backs of the city buses. It's their way of trying to get around the "no snitching" policy in the 'hood. You just text your crime tip to the number and voila! You are not a snitch! You are a concerned citizen of the Woo, helping the police do their job via technology. Just make sure you text the letters WPD before your tip. Apparently there is just one text a tip line and other cities use it too. Texting WPD first lets them know that the tip is from Worcester. Now go get 'em, crime fighter!

4. When times get tough, steal power.  Sometimes in the 'hood, money gets tight. (OK-money is AWAYS tight in the 'hood.) But sometimes it gets so tight that you have to pick and choose which bills to pay...or start a game of check writing roulette. (Everyone does this. Right???) Sometimes, despite these efforts, your power may get shut off. If this happens, just do what my neighbors do. Run an extension cord to the outlet in the hallway and steal power from the building's common areas. Your lights work. You're welcome. 

5. Always lock your door. This one pretty much goes without saying, but not for the reason you'd think. I don't keep my door locked out of fear of robbery because really, no one's going to sh*t where they eat. I keep the door locked to keep the wanderers out. Yup. In a building where every floor looks exactly the same, people will wander into your apartment, thinking it's theirs. I've done it. My neighbors have done it. It always freaks out all parties involved. Spare yourself the awkwardness. Lock your door. 

6. Use a space saver. Unlike some communities around Boston where using space savers after a snowstorm is a punishable crime, the practice is still alive and well in the Woo...because 'Murica. Having been the person who got up early before work to shovel out their on street parking space, only to come home after work and discover that the lazy upstairs neighbor has stolen said space, forcing you to have to park on an iceberg, which makes you late for work the following day because your car got stuck, I fully support the use of space savers. (I'm looking at you, residents of 26 Howland Terrace, Apt 2, circa 2003!). Lately I've seen some pretty creative space savers in the 'hood, and if I could walk I would have taken pictures of them. But I can't, so you'll have to create a mental image of these beauties. Popular space savers include things like chairs, end tables, old TVs, empty Rubbermaid tubs, stolen traffic cones, and boxes. One of my two favorites is the quite popular use of the Graco baby carrier. No one's going to move that space saver because of the "what if" factor. What if there really is a baby in there? (Quite a possibility in this neighborhood...) You don't want to be the one accused to moving someone else's baby. Even if it was being used to save a parking space. And my personal favorite? The Cozy Coupe. The person who used this one is a genius! Because if Worcester does someday decide to crack down on the use of space savers, this person could probably argue their way out of a fine. "Officer! That's not a space saver! That's my car! It's the only car I can afford and I'm just parking it in front of my house." See?? Genius!! 

Let me know if you see anything that tops the Cozy Coupe. I just KNOW there's something even more awesome out there, just waiting to be discovered.

3 Crazy Things

Crazy things happen on our street ALL the time. Sometimes we get REALLY lucky and crazy things happen right inside our building. Think of it like a front row seat to a reality television show on cable. Who needs to pay Charter a small fortune each month? Just come hang out in our building for a week. You're bound to see something good. Now I've already told you about the junkie overdose, the weed and 'shroom growing operation, the man living in the basement, and the base thumpin' DJ set up-here are 3 more crazy things in no apparent order:

Bleach Girl

Bleach girl and her husband lived upstairs. She was a pharmacy student. He was a med student. And they definitely thought they were too good for the 'hood. You would say hi to these two in the hallway and they would look right through you. My kids would say hi and these two wouldn't respond, prompting my kids to start yelling, "Mommy! They didn't say hi back! You said that's rude!" He wore scrubs ALL THE TIME. Presumably so that everyone would know he was a doctor in training, but all it did was let everyone know that he was a real asshole. Anyway, you'd think that these two would have some amount of brain power between them, right? Wrong. I came home from work one day and my apartment smelled like the pool at the Y. I heard water dripping somewhere. I followed the sound to my bedroom where I found bleach water dripping through our bathroom ceiling and into two closets. Our red towels were bleached. Our shower curtain was bleached. Clothes in the closet were bleached. I went upstairs and knocked on the door. Pharmacy girl answered. I said, "You do know that bleach is pouring into my apartment and staining everything, right?" Her reply? "Yes. My tub was clogged so I filled it with bleach and water and it overflowed."

What?! Apparently they are letting anyone into medical and pharmacy school these days. I asked if I could come in and help clean it up so that it would stop ruining my stuff sooner, rather than later. She wouldn't let me into her apartment. (Which of course made me think she was secretly cooking meth in her bedroom.) Anyway, they never offered to replace the stuff they ruined and they never even apologized. You can't fix stupid and you apparently can't fix asshole either. Karma got them in the end though. They moved after a shotgun wedding (Medical school apparently didn't teach them about contraceptives either.) and never left a forwarding address. So some of their wedding gifts were left on the porch during the time we had mail theft issues going on in the 'hood. I totally saw the neighbors going through the boxes and said nothing. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I certainly wasn't about to provoke the neighbors on their behalf. Lesson learned: If you live in the 'hood, you are not too good for it, regardless of what you may think. Also, karma's a b*tch. 

9-1-1 Knife Girl

Not so long ago, there was a scuffle in the hallway. I'm pretty sure it was all one family, fighting with each other. A girl came running down to my sister's apartment and told my brother in law to call 9-1-1 because her mother was being attacked with a knife. Because you know, your neighbors knock on your door on the regular and tell you things like this, right?! No?? Maybe that's just in our 'hood. Anyway, 9-1-1 was called. The po-po broke up the family knife fight. I think it was all a big misunderstanding-maybe a family dinner gone wrong. Lesson learned: Knives are for cutting meat, not for cutting Auntie Edna during a family dinner. 

The Transformer (which was definitely more than meets the eye)

I was at church on New Year's Eve (What?! That's not how you celebrate the New Year?! See, not everyone in the 'hood is a heathen.) when our tenant called. (Yup. We are landlords. We actually own a little slice of the 'hood.) Apparently the transformer by our porch was sparking so the National Grid guys shut off the power to repair it. Which caused a mass exodus from the nearby 3 deckers. Soon the light pole was surrounded by locals yelling at the line worker about how he was ruining their NYE. I'm sure he was loving his job at that moment. Because he certainly wanted to spend NYE on Grafton Hill being yelled at by the locals. The best was the guy who came out yelling about how his baby was crying and how was he gonna heat up the bottle in the micro if the power was out and now his baby was going to STARVE TO DEATH!! Yup. Starve. To. Death. The power was on in less than an hour. No one starved to death. And I assume the line worker went home and got good and drunk. Lesson learned: National Grid is not in the business of trying to kill your baby or ruin your party. They just want to fix the power and get the hell out of Dodge. 

So that's it. Three more crazy things in a gold mine of crazy. It's all good in the 'hood. Always. 

The Guy with the Antibiotic Resistant Staph Infection

From time to time we go out in or 'hood. When in Rome and all that. One of those nights, Joe was in Vegas, so my sister, cousin, and I decided to head out into the Woo for dinner and drinks. I forget where we went for dinner, (That part's not important.) but I do know that we ended up at a local watering hole long after we probably should have been in bed. (My mom always told me, "Nothing good happens past midnight." The next time you're out past midnight, think about this. Chances are you are up to no good.) Anyway, we arrived at the bar with some friends and ordered drinks. (Extra dirty martini. Because nothing says "hydration" like gin and olive juice, am I right?!) The drinks arrived. We drank and chatted for a bit. And then I realized that my sister was missing. Not good. I decided to go on a hunt for the missing sister and trekked out into the big bad Woo, where I quickly discoverd that it was snowing. (Ugh.) I stood in front of the bar, shivering and pondering my next move when a pretty colorful Worcesterite walked up to me. He noticed I was freezing in my short sleeved shirt and offered me his jacket. His jacket that had the sleeves ripped off. (Who says chivalry is dead?! Obviously they've never been standing outside a bar in Worcester at 1am.) I was tipsy, he was tipsy...so of course we started chatting. Apparently he'd been at St. V's earlier than night where his girlfriend was staying due to an antibiotic resistant staph infection, that he'd supposedly given her. (It was at this point that I decided that it was a good idea to smoke the menthol cigarette he offered me. Like I said. Tipsy.) The nurse asked him to leave when visiting hours ended, so of course he did what any civilized person would do. He punched the nurse. And was promptly thrown out of the hospital. So of course he went to a bar. Of course. At this point my phone started buzzing uncontrollable with text after incoherent text. From my sister. Apparently she gave up trying to text me (because she couldn't seem to type clearly) and instead shouted, "Heidi! Stop talking about staph infections and get over here!" I'd found her! Lying across the hood of my cousin's snow-covered car. Yes!! 

This story ends here. No big excitement. My cousin drove us home and we went to bed. However, there is one other way home from this particular bar...

You see, you can see the street this bar is on from our building. But due to a mind boggling maze of dead end streets, you can't get there directly. Or can you?? If you walk down the path (alley?) between the abandoned crack house and the three decker, you can get to a little patch of woods. (The same woods where two crack heads later killed another crack head and set her body on fire. Safe, right?!) Anyway, if you walk down the path, over some rocks, and into the "woods," you will be let out onto the end of our street. Ghetto shortcut. One night we even found a boxing nun puppet on this was, which we of course took home and played with all night. Because that's what you do when you find a boxing nun right!?

Nights out in the 'hood. They don't happen often these days, but when they do you know that something crazy is bound to happen!!